


The Adventures of Shiro and Harold

by 15Strawberries



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Drug Use, Gen, Underage Drinking, and spiders
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-07
Updated: 2017-01-07
Packaged: 2018-09-15 13:37:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 637
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9237413
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/15Strawberries/pseuds/15Strawberries
Summary: In which Shiro goes to a concert and makes a new friend.





	

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SassafrassRex (Serbajean)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serbajean/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Objectively Objectionable](https://archiveofourown.org/works/9236231) by [SassafrassRex (Serbajean)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Serbajean/pseuds/SassafrassRex). 



> [This](https://mobile.twitter.com/avakoratron/status/768262336624795652/photo/2) is Shiro. [This](https://youtu.be/uloBD9xxwZ0) is Shiro's new favorite music.  
> [This](https://en.m.wikipedia.org/wiki/Huntsman_spider#/media/File%3ASparassidae_Palystes_castaneus_mature_female_9923s.jpg) is Harold
> 
> Many, many thanks to the wonderful SassafrassRex, who answered my [ask](http://sassafrassrex.tumblr.com/post/154870776390/hello-i-hope-you-dont-mind-me-asking-but-what) on tumblr, and gave me permission to post this silly thing. (And taught me how to embed links!)  
> You can check out her fic [here](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9236231?view_adult=true)!

This was, hands down, the best decision Shiro had ever made in his life. Or the worst. He wasn't too clear about that at this point.

There was light and sound _everywhere_. People dancing and lights flashing, music pounding in the speakers and jets of flame shooting up into the air that turned into snakes halfway to the stars.

What was this called again? Psychedelic— psytrance? Something about mushrooms for sure.

Whatever it was, it had taken his brain, folded it into tiny paper stars, then unfolded it, pasted all the pieces together, and turned it into an origami unicorn. And no, he didn't know how that was possible, only that it had happened and it was _awesome_. High octane, double barreled awesome.

But after three hours of a constant, musical high, Shiro needed a break. So he'd found himself sitting under a tree with Kahn, the Sikh ex-pat who'd invited him to the concert, an American exchange student, two German backpackers, and a handful of Thai kids about his age, passing around the joints the backpackers had pulled out and getting chemically high instead.

(He could never, ever tell Ryou about this.)

After a few puffs, Shiro was explaining very earnestly to anyone who would listen that the light from the stars took thousands of years to reach earth, so when you looked at any given star you were actually seeing what it looked like in the past— well, it was the present relative to their time frame here on earth, but for that star it was the past, and that's why stargazing was basically time-travel—

Everyone was staring at him. Crap.

Oh, there was a spider on his shoulder. That was okay. The spider could protect them from the centipedes.

The Thai kids agreed, toasting the spider with their beers. _Fuck centipedes_ , they said.

One of the Germans immediately named the spider Harold, and the exchange student knighted him. Shiro’s shoulder spider was now Sir Harold of Arachnida, lord protector of the Animalia kingdom from the centipede aggressors.

Kahn pointed out that, based on the size, Harold was probably a she.

Harold didn’t have _time_ for their gender roles. The centipede threat was ever present.

After a while, the group broke up again. The Thai kids wandered back toward the music, lured in by a guy on stage that might actually be firebending. One of the backpackers and the exchange student had disappeared off somewhere, and Khan had followed the other’s promise of something a little more fun than weed. Shiro was left alone.

He thought about standing up, following the music back to its throbbing, pounding source, and seeing what it did when his brain felt more like potter’s clay than paper. But Harold was still on his shoulder, and it was getting late. Shiro was tired.

From this far away, the pull of the music was more of an undertow rather than a raging, roaring flood. So Shiro sat, and listened, and watched fire turn to snakes turn to flickering ribbons, closing his eyes for just a minute . . . .

When Kahn woke him up to take him home, Harold was gone, and there was a centipede in his lap. The screaming and flailing was perfectly justified, thank you Kahn, for just laughing at him instead of doing something useful. His mouth was dry, he had a pounding headache, and even he went to sleep as soon as he got home— not likely, judging by the nervous, jittery energy coursing through his veins— he would only have two hours before he had to wake up for school. Mom was going to kill him.

This was, hands down, the worst decision he’d ever made in his life.

_(Fiery ribbon-snakes, pounding music, finally understanding the meaning of the phrase dreaming wide awake . . . .)_

Or, quite possibly, the best.


End file.
